


One Brief Shining Moment

by Drag0nst0rm



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Family, Fluff, For one brief shining moment Feanor and Fingolfin get along, Gen, Kid Fic, Years of the Trees
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 06:23:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20421362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: In which Feanaro invents water balloons, and Nolofinwe masterminds a minor diplomatic incident.These two things are not unrelated.





	One Brief Shining Moment

**Author's Note:**

> For artanisnerwen, who wanted Feanor and Fingolfin, "I don't want an apology, I want you to tell me how you did it," and surprise me.
> 
> Feanor is the elvish equivalent of twelvish in this fic; Fingolfin is probably about nine. If that fits with the canon age gap, yay! If not, consider this slightly AU.

For once, no one cared that Nolofinwe was dripping all over the carpet.

He had a towel that he was supposed to be using to dry off, but he was far more interested in seeing if the puddle slowly growing around him would manage to reach the carpet’s blue border and turn the depicted stream into a proper one. Amil was still far too busy scolding Feanaro to turn her scolding on him for it.

The slow spread of the water was far more interesting than the scolding, which he thought everyone had probably all but memorized by now. He’d gotten the same one more than once, and he mouthed it to himself as Amil went along.

“You’re getting far too old for this kind of nonsense! Now, of all times, with Ingwe arriving any minute - “

The period of time had shortened over the last month of preparations, but not much else had changed about the lecture except for the level of exasperated despair in Amil’s voice when she said it.

Nolofinwe squirmed a little, and he dug his toes deeper into the wet carpet.

. . . Maybe he should have listened a little more so that Amil wouldn’t have had to get so exasperated.

But Feanaro had pulled a prank on him _first,_ and after that he couldn’t just _back down._

“Just think what your father will say!” Amil paused for breath here, and Nolofinwe braced himself. This was usually the part where Feanaro started shouting.

But instead his half-brother just stared stonily ahead.

Even Amil seemed surprised by that, and she was never surprised about anything. “Well. I suppose there’s hardly time to go talk to him now. Just - apologize to your brother, get yourself straightened out, and come down to the receiving hall. _Quickly.”_

Nolofinwe hurried to bring the towel up to his face so that when Amil turned around she would see him drying himself off industriously. 

He lowered it just in time to see her look suspiciously from him to the damp darkened carpet around him. He smiled up at her innocently. 

Amil just sighed and said, “You had better get changed too, little one,” before sweeping out the door.

Nolofinwe scowled down at the carpet. He was _not_ little. He was growing bigger all the time and would even be bigger than _Feanaro_ someday. He was sure of it.

“I’m sorry,” Feanaro said stiffly.

Nolofinwe, who had just noticed with delight that his puddle had indeed reached the blue edge of the carpet, had to take a moment to realize what he’d said.

Oh. An apology. Right.

Sometimes it seemed half the things he and Feanaro said to each were apologies demanded by Amil or Atar.

“I don’t want an apology,” he complained. “I want to know how you did it. How’d you get the water to come out like that?” 

He’d thought it had been a little red ball being thrown at him at first. He hadn’t expected it to burst when he caught it or for water to spew out when it did.

He also hadn’t expected the three that had come flying after it, although by the fourth he’d been well on his way to running for cover.

Feanaro looked wary, but he stared to explain anyway, and his face lit up as he did so. Feanaro _loved_ explaining things. Sometimes it was annoying, but mostly it was useful. Even Feanaro couldn’t stay irritated with him for long when he was explaining things.

“I found a material that stretches really well. See?” he said, pulling an example out of the pouch on his belt that he’d gotten the red balls out of. “So if you fill it with water, it’ll just stretch and stretch until it can’t anymore and it bursts. But if you stop filling it just before that point, it’ll only burst on impact.”

“Let me see,” he demanded, running over and tugging at the material. It stretched almost taut between their hands before Feanaro let go of it. Nolofinwe examined it for a moment. “King Ingwe’s bringing his son, isn’t he?”

“ . . . Yes,” Feanaro said, eying him suspiciously. They both knew that fact very well as Amil and Atar had both assured them that they were sure all the boys would be great friends.

Nolofinwe had learned a long time ago not to trust adults when they said that they were very sure that someone would be a great friend.

Feanaro, who was old enough to have gotten to go with their father on a trip to see King Ingwe and who had thus actually met Ingwion, had made a face that had made Nolofinwe even more suspicious.

He was not expecting great things from Prince Ingwion.

He stretched the material again experimentally. “How much trouble do you think we would get in if we threw some of these at him?”

“We’d probably get sent back to our rooms,” Feanaro said, but not like he objected all that much to the thought.

“We could throw them at the feast,” Nolofinwe said, “right before the speeches.”

Feanaro was silent for a long moment. 

“Nolo,” he said slowly, “I think that might just be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Nolofinwe beamed.


End file.
